of the ever elusive man in my life

I meandered my car through the traffic snarls. I was already running late.I checked my watch, and drummed my fingers impatiently on the wheel. God, I wondered, I can't be late, I am meeting him after a long time. It is after much cajoling that he had agreed to give me an appointment. If you are thinking that I am going on a date to meet that special person in my life. Yes, I am. I was on my way to meet my tailor.
I had to get some blouses stitched for my cousins wedding next month.The ones which men drool over. And I needed the right guy to do it for me. But, I have I have discovered another area where I am a complete failure.It is so darn difficult to find a good tailor,who listens to you and delivers on time. No doubt, there are good tailors, bad tailors and temperamental ones too. But to my utter frustration -I dont have one. Come to think of it, I have several on MG road at my service. The one on Clover Centre does the picco for my sarees. While Prakash on the other side of the road specialises on sari blouses. The black noodle strapped black katori blouse he stitched last summer would make any Bollywood actress weep with envy. There is Rafiq tailor who stitches dresses out of raw silk, that resembles a Zara's and H& M -if you squint.
To get your dresses stitched as you desire is like a dream come true. But nevertheless it is always fraught with dissapointments. The best tailors are temperamental artisians.I met guys who refused orders rather then meet the deadline. So you coax and cajole, dance and flatter, flutter your eyelashes and say - “ It is and you me love, just the two of us all the way....” and you are going to stitch that dress for me in 24 hours flat or less.
Is it to me only they do that or to everyone else? I think I approach the tailors in a wrong way.I approach them like I would approach a boyfriend, full of expectations that he is going to be the one. So I am lost in my happy thoughts and dreams- that I have finally arrived.But my beloved tailor, hardly takes his eyes from his stitching and utters “ festival rush madam.”And there I am stranded like a jilted lover, waiting for his message, his call, or in this case, the delivery of my red sequinned blouse which he promised to deliver two days earlier.
Sometimes I feel like throwing it all in and going to the nearest mall, buy a ready made outfit and walk out in 10 mins. None of this cajoling, pleading and half baked promises.The problem is that, once you get accustomed to customade dresses you never feel like opting for the ready made ones. Or rather you'll know exactly what ready made clothes lack.
What I have gathered in this quest, is that from this moment on, the most important man in an Indian Women's life is not her boyfriend who brings gifts for her, or her sizzling lover, not her sugar daddy who showers her with solitaires, not her husband who has been putting up with her idiosyncracies for the last 20 years.The most important person in a woman’s life is the local tailor who will stitch her dreams out of brocade, silk and cotton.